


Inhuman Intimacy

by Weirdowhotalkstoofast



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Other, and life, heroing is stressful, life is stressful, they both need it, they have a little alone time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 23:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7661803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weirdowhotalkstoofast/pseuds/Weirdowhotalkstoofast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On those nights, Jaime's skin crawls and he feels the need to change, to grow. Khaji Da doesn't need to tell him why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inhuman Intimacy

**Author's Note:**

> I wish there were more stories of these two. These two dorks aren't shipped together enough. All I want is a sentient alien destroyer of civilization touching a cinnamon roll of a human boy. And fluff. So much fluff it rots the teeth.  
> Please enjoy.

It’s one of those nights.

Those nights when Jaime’s skin doesn’t feel quite right, crawling and shivering with the need to change into something harder and stronger. Those nights when his spine thrummed with the energy of another, someone alien and familiar, pressing and wanting something out of their reach, pulses of heat and emotion radiating from his back and it was all Jaime could do not to tremble from the sheer sensation shooting up his spine. Those nights when dreams were filled with monsters and warped cities and languages he does not know but understands, always understands.

(He cannot deny it.)

Those nights when Khaji Da reaches deeper into Jaime and purrs as he finds a new alcove to settle and sleep in, burying himself into parts Jaime never paid attention to but now can’t help but quiver whenever Khaji Da ghosts a note out of those chords, wanting and hesitant and curious all at once.

(Is he too open, too willing? It doesn’t matter; they are past the point of no return.)

Those nights when the tendrils of the scarab that wrap around his nerves and veins and bones twitch and _stretch_ , and Jaime could feel Khaji Da _wanting_ for something so very badly (so badly it hurts and aches) but he’s not sure what and Khaji doesn’t tell him.

(He knows.)

Those nights that build up from all those days of _of_ -

_fighting fantastic villains like the movies, laughing together at the endearing foolishness of their beloved, inside jokes and shared secrets; watching movies and making jokes, prodding fun at each other (“oh don’t act you don’t love me”), battling the decay of the world one painful, bloody mission at a time; hot days of the desert and biting cold they both disliked but endured nonetheless; boring college with endless lectures and rushed essays, all-nighters, and deadlines barely met; way more stress than he thought was necessary (“oh god fuck this”), nagging and mothering by a persistent, annoyed friend (“don’t eat that, **don’t eat that”** ), advice ignored (“I **told** you-“) and lessons learned (“I’m sorry, I’m so **sorry”** ), all crammed in one single burning bright life-_

Jaime can feel the legs of the scarab clamp tighter into his spine, as if it thought it could become closer and firmer in its bond with Jaime by digging into a millimeter of bone and flesh before relaxing again. His mind feels both fuzzy and inhumanly clear as Khaji Da presses in further into their connection, probing and wanting, and the distinction between Jaime and Khaji fades for a while as his vision fills up with lines of code and Reach script, seeing in three different wavelengths as he lets go and lets Khaji _in_.

Jaime’s glad that this only really happens when he’s alone. It would be hard to explain why he’s zoning out every five seconds during a conversation while he’s trying to shove back emerging armor from his back. Not that Khaji’s done that lately.

When he’s around other people, it’s easier to ignore, easier to put off and tell Khaji Da to wait and calm down until he finds the time to shut himself up somewhere quiet and dark. Retreats to let whatever shifting inside of him finish growing before telling himself he’s still mostly himself, mostly human.

(He doesn’t care. Not as much as before.)

Khaji Da doesn’t do it on purpose, not really. He wants something, maybe more freedom, more control, or sometimes he’s just curious or feels too constrained by everyday life, so sometimes, when they have days off, he just kind of…spreads out? It’s hard to describe. Jaime understands, a little, and doesn’t mind too much. He gets being squished into one form all the time must be boring so it isn’t a big deal.

Really, it’s fine, just a weird feeling sometimes.

(A feeling of absolute _otherness_ growing inside him, strange and warm and **alive** , and he doesn’t mind at all-)

It feels euphoric somehow, the high of melting away into nothing and something all at once, (probably) coming from the Scarab. But then there’s the underlying feeling that he’s supposed to be uncomfortable with this. With Khaji Da reaching as far as he can into Jaime, like he can’t help himself from exploring his depths and eluding plumes of thought and emotion as he marks all the places he’s been. With being explored and examined, touched and tasted inside out as he fuses with a being that is not human or organic or anything at all resembling ‘normal.’ With the visceral feeling of finally being allowed to stretch and grow and harden into the infiltrator he was always meant to be-

But he doesn’t. Feel uncomfortable that is.

He feels himself change in a thousand little ways as Khaji presses closer against Jaime’s mind and body, like a cat curling in his lap, purring and making his whole body vibrate. He remembers, on those nights, that he isn’t the only one influenced by their partnership.

(He is harboring another within himself, a spark bursting into a wildfire he’s so proud of-)

He spends those nights at home, in his room, with the door locked and the window shut because this feels like a private thing between him and Khaji Da. Sometimes he flies off to the desert to gather his thoughts and stare at the coldly shining stars he knows he will one day visit, but this is not something to be shared, not even with the indifferent stars.

It’s one of those nights and right now he’s in his room, sitting on his bed, stripped to his shorts, with his knees drawn up and head pressed against his thighs as Khaji Da clicks and chirrups and hums in their half garbled language they talk in when they don’t feel like translating directly into English or Spanish but Jaime understands anyway, like the same way he understands the abstract, languageless exchange of thought and ideas and emotions they sometimes communicate in when words feel too clunky and inadequate for whatever they’re talking about.

Jaime sighs and lets the armor overtake him. It’s not so much as calling the armor as letting Khaji Da grow slowly on his back, coaxing and accepting. The carapace embraces his torso, and patches of black and blue bloom on his skin. He isn’t completely encased in the armor; his head and face are left free and his limbs are mostly covered with streaks and blotches instead of the usual consistent pattern of Khaji Da’s second skin.

Jaime thinks he resembles a cross between his human self and a halfway transformation into Blue Beetle. A monster, one might think, but alien is more accurate. Because that’s what he is. Or, what Khaji Da is.

Khaji Da hums and black grows from the back of his neck, covering the apples of his cheeks as the legs of the carapace squeeze him in a vague approximation of a hug. Jaime blushes.

These nights, when he doesn’t feel quite human or right in his own skin, are…intimate, to say at the least. Khaji Da knows what’s he’ s doing to Jaime, and he seems to _revel_ in how he can make Jaime squirm. Khaji Da likes reminding Jaime how deeply and irrevocable they both were intertwined.

( ** _Mine_** , Khaji Da hisses. _You are mine and you have changed **wonderfully**. Stronger and cleverer and more flexible than before. You fight and you **win** , with claws and words. Beautiful and lethal like mercury. Jaime Reyes, let me tell you all the possible futures we can make **together**._ )

How the scarab isn’t the only changed one in their relationship.

~~Khaji Da is a weird romantic.~~

It isn’t _bad_. It’s not like he’s going crazy or becoming evil. It doesn’t hurt in any way that he wants it to stop but-

He’s still Jaime Reyes the college student with a seven-page essay due next week and gets covered in goo once in a while because _another_ slime monster was attacking the plastic factory _again_ but this?

It feels like an existential crisis. But it’s not. This is just how his life is now. No use wasting sleepless nights over it. He used to, when he didn’t know, when he was scared and uncertain but now?

Khaji Da thrums a simple melody through his brain, tugging at his attention, and Jaime makes a small noise.

The brush of a question at the fringes of his mind tickle his brain. Jaime swallows dryly.

“It’s-it’s okay, yeah. Sure. You can-you can-ohh. Spread out a little. We-you worked hard this week, you deserve a little-ngh-oh god-” Jaime groans as Khaji Da sends out a series of electrical pulses through his spinal cord and the delicate stripes of armor patterning his skin. Goosebumps rise all over his body. His hands are clutching the blankets with white knuckles. In his head, he can hear Khaji Da chirr with satisfaction and echoed pleasure. It’s like a massage for both of them except Jaime can feel it all over his body and in his brain and right now those absolutely _lovely_ electric pulses are kneading out all the knots and Jaime is making soft, high-pitched noises like he’s having sex, which actually isn’t that far from what’s happ-

Jaime breathes in and tilts his head back. He forces himself to look around. The moon is half full outside, soft light trickling in through the shutters. His blankets are pooled around him, more cushion than covering. Faintly, if he strained his ears, he could hear cicadas buzz in the distance. The house is quiet. His head isn’t. His head is filled with clicking and humming and hissing and buzzing and **_singing_** _-?_

The feeling of sinking down into a warm bath intensifies and they both shiver. Jaime leans back into the bed slowly, every nerve tingling, his feet pushing down into the mattress as he sighs. He can hear his hair crunch slightly under his head against the pillow. He rolls his shoulders.

A tendril emerges from the scarab and wraps affectionately around his neck. It reaches up and caresses his darkened cheek. Jaime turned and pecked a soft kiss on the waving tendril as it passed over his mouth. It twitched and Khaji Da gave out a feeling of being suddenly nervous and flustered. Jaime giggled as the tendril stroked the edge of his jaw and neck, inquisitive and gentle.

Khaji Da plucks at the wires in his head, coaxing strange feelings to rise to the surface as he answered back with memories phantom, music blossoming from their harmony. Something sharp and rumbling and unknowable synchronizes with a steady beat that radiated warmth and the mellowness of a viola. It was enrapturing, tearing him apart at the seams.

Jaime tugs at Khaji Da, a little clumsy but with intent to tell him something _,_ and Khaji Da pauses the strumming at his pull, then he- he-?

Khaji Da does this weird chitter-giggle-hum that registers as laughter to Jaime as he flexes something then _burns_ and Jaime cries out.

The armor of his skin glows burning blue, hot, and Jaime can hear his heart in his ears. He can taste something metallic in his mouth and his vision is tinted with blue. He struggles to breathe deeply and the armor is crawling in his skin, spilling across his body in a writhing tide of black mass. The scarab pulses between his shoulder blades and Jaime’s back arches _._

_Ohmygod dios por favor ayudarme oneonetwothreefiveeightthirteentwentyone ohhhh khaji~_

Khaji Da slips deeper into his mind, wisps of thought threading through him like smoke, and roots into him like Khaji Da wants to fuse completely and utterly with him and become one being or maybe he wants only Jaime to lose himself as he touches places Jaime had forgotten, strings of memory and trails of thought that lead to nowhere and entangle themselves into a web of human consciousness. Reality melts away and becomes indistinct from the things growing and changing inside him.

_-thirtyfourfiftyfiveeightynineonehundredfortyfour ohgodohgod oh **holy shit**_

His skin feels too tight and his eyes squeeze shut as everything warps into a blur and his brain sputters in an almost-seizure as it tries to decipher the feedback Khaji Da was giving him ( _oneonezerozerozerooneoneonezeroonezeroonezerozerooneoneoneoneone **oneonetwothreefiveeightthirteentwentyonethirtyfourfiftyfive oh**_ **please~** ).

His heart shudders at the feel of something unforgiving wrapping around it, protecting it, fusing with it, **changing** it-

Jaime wonders if this will hurt Khaji Da later, much later, when he is dead and Khaji Da is alone, ~~without him~~. Khaji Da snips that thought off at the bud and reminds him that they have a lifetime to worry, that he is not organic or human and was built to bury himself into his host like this. Human concepts of individuality and solitude don’t (quite) apply to him.

: _You will not die your final death for a long time_ : Khaji Da says as Jaime lies on the bed, shivering and twitching. : _I will make sure of that.:_

And with that Jaime’s self dissolves entirely and his world is consumed by blue light.

When he wakes up, the armor is gone and the carapace has retreated back into the small scarab implanted in between his shoulder, warm and humming contently. Khaji Da’s presence noses into his headspace, querying gently about his wellbeing. Almost like a post-coital murmur. If coitus meant his nervous system overloading as his mind was assimilated by an alien while (questionable) augmenting adjustments were made to his body. Khaji nudged at him again.

_This is nice_ , he thought drowsily.

The carapace grows back, purring like a tiger and Jaime feels the overwhelming urge to sleep. He thinks about staying awake as the other awareness in his mind clicks and probes at him until he gets the message. He obeys willingly and lets himself sink into dreams filled with beings from exoplanets and dead stars and a hissing dialect only he could hear.

Khaji Da hums quietly and Jaime sleeps, the metal in his blood slowly cooling.

**Author's Note:**

> Alien symbionts are weird. Jaime doesn't mind. 
> 
> Please comment and tell me what you think.


End file.
